Baby, It's Cold Outside
by brookegrace
Summary: It's Christmas time, and Lucas refuses to spend the holidays with out Brooke.


_Hey all. I'm on Christmas break for a few weeks, so you can bet that I'll update all of my stories at least once. I know, another story, but I can't hold ideas in. I'm going through something extremely difficult and reviews would definitely bring me joy right now, so please leave one. _

_Flash backs in italics. The song is a beautiful duet, first line of each set of lyrics is the girl, the second line is the boy._

-X-

_Baby it's cold outside..._

Her brunette hair cascades down her back with a glow that every female in her life envies, and every male in her life dreams of holding.

She is a siren and there is no denying it.

She knows it, she flaunts it, she depends upon it.

For a few months it was as if she forgot about her looks, because for once someone looked deeper into her being, but that did not last very long.

So now she's back to her old ways, and holds her beauty more dear, if anything.

It's December now, and the Winter Break has started.

She's truly more than excited, because it means a two week binge of alcohol and eggnog with out the worry of school in the morning.

Classy? Not so much.

But Brooke Davis lives for fun and appearance, and the Holidays are just the time to relish in the feeling of just_ that_.

She combs her hair back, a serious look upon her face as she gazes at her pale reflection.

Through the beauty, there's a hint of sadness in her eyes, but she tries to ignore it's presence.

Her best friend's once boyfriend is throwing his famous first-night-of-break party, and her appearance is nothing less than crucial.

So she absolutely can not focus on that familiar tinge in her heart, because she'll only talk herself out of going.

Wiping away any traces of thoughts on the matter, she stands up from her rigid sitting position.

She's wearing a maroon Burberry sweater, which she picked after hours of deliberation.

It's no surprise that she picked it, really – she's always looked her best in the family of reds.

She's wearing dark jeans which are teamed with black peep toe booties.

Fashion has always been one of her deepest passions.

Taking one last look at her appearance, she heads out of her room in satisfaction.

She's nailed yet another outfit.

But once she gracefully walks outside, her face contorts into that of discomfort.

Her cashmere sweater isn't doing much against the brisk December winds.

It's okay though, she tells herself while plastering on that smile of hers.

Beauty is pain.

She's half way to Nathan's beach house when she receives a call that will unknowingly alter the rest of her night.

Glancing at the caller ID with frown in place, she deliberates ignoring it, but her curiosity and heart win over her better judgment.

"Hello?" the brunette asks, trying to hide any and all uncertainty in her voice.

"Brooke," the breathless voice of Haley replies.

Brooke's frown only grows with confusion.

"Haley, why are you calling me from Lucas's phone?" the dimpled girl asks in that pointed way of hers.

"Mine ran out of battery," the short, once nerdy girl replies quickly. "Listen, I need a favor."

"Okay, shoot, tutor-girl," Brooke replies, smile in place, because she's always eager to help those that are dear to her.

"I need you to cover for me tonight," the brunette explains, meekly.

Her smile is quickly wiped away - she, like, can not miss this party.

"Hales, I can't-"

"Brooke, please," the brunette pleads in a now noticeably nasally voice. "I'm really sick and Karen refuses to let me work, and since you've helped out before and Karen-"

"Hales," Brooke giggles, stopping one of her friend's famous rants. "Yeah, I'll cover for you," Brooke says, still giggling.

She knows that the cafe closes at ten and Brooke would have to stay until eleven cleaning. But that's okay, it's now nine and she knows that the party will still be just beginning at midnight.

So what if she's a little late?

She _is_ Brooke Davis.

"Thank you_ so _much, Brooke," Haley sighs in relief, and Brooke can almost picture her doing so.

"I'll be there in twenty minutes," the dimpled girl informs before hanging up on her grateful friend.

She thinks it's almost funny how quickly things have changed.

She's good friends with a girl that was the epitome of all the losers her popular clique made fun of. And said once loser is now married to the co-captain of said clique.

Brooke being the "other captain", of course.

And then she thinks of the smart girl's long time best friend.

_Ugh_, Brooke thinks.

He always has a way of wondering into her thoughts.

After their pregnancy scare, things with them have ended.

She's sad inside, because she could see herself loving him, but by now it doesn't really hurt much.

If anything, it's good that things with them ended when they did.

It hurt at first, but falling in love is something that the brunette just doesn't do.

She's so wrapped up in her thoughts, that she doesn't even notice the parked truck on the other side of the street.

Grumbling slightly, she quickly walks into the warm, dimly lit cafe.

It looks and feels wonderful inside.

_This evening has been..._

_Been hoping that you'd drop in _

"Haley," the brunette calls as she admires the beautiful lights that seem to currently define the store.

She's always loved Christmas lights – growing up it was her favorite part of the Holidays, but once she hit thirteen, her maids stopped decorating the cold mansion with them.

"Brooke."

She quizzically looks at him for a few seconds – he's definitely not Haley.

"Hales told me you might need help with the cafe," he explains to the less than amused girl.

"I don't need help," she replies courtly.

His brow squints in that way of his, because he really regrets what happened between them.

They haven't been together for a few months now, but he still misses her sometimes.

"I thought maybe we could talk," he suggests with a hint of insecurity in his voice.

The brunette is a firecracker and he's learned that her short temper can be ignited by the simplest thing.

"I don't think there's anything to talk about," she says, shrugging her shoulders.

She walks to the counter, and as her hips sway in that sensual way of hers, she knows that she's aroused his attention.

Groaning slightly, and trying to ignore the images of Brooke's naked hips, he follows her to behind the counter.

"I think there is," he retorts.

He's watching her make a hot coco, and the familiarity she has with his mom's cafe makes him feel even more sadness.

Why?

Because it reminds him of the first night he ever brought her inside with him.

"_Do you want anything?" he asks the vixen that's currently sitting on his mom's counter. _

_Thank fully, there's no customers on account of the cafe being closed, because the way that skirt rides up her thigh is definitely not appropriate. _

"_Maybe some hot chocolate," she huskily suggests, with that mysterious half smile in place._

_He nods dumbly, because he doesn't think he can form any words with his current aroused state. _

_They haven't had sex yet, but that doesn't mean that he doesn't dream about sleeping with the sexiest girl he's ever met._

"_Do you have whipped cream?" _

"_Yeah, it's in that cupboard," he informs, pointing to one a little out of the short girl's reach. _

"_Lucas, I can't reach it," she lies, and they both know it._

_She's not even standing on her tiptoes, Lucas notes, but that doesn't stop him from leaning his strong body into hers as he grabs the bottle._

_He can smell her vanilla scented hair, and maybe that's why he stays rooted in place._

_She gracefully turns around, so that her breasts are closely pressed onto his chest._

_Her hazel eyes are sparkling and her smile is wide. _

_He loves that smile, because those two dimples look precious to him._

"_You did that on purpose," he says huskily through a half smile._

"_Tell me you don't like it," she murmurs back, her dark nails pulling his waist into hers._

"_I don't like it," he groans back, his aroused state no longer a secret._

"_Liar," she whispers before enveloping his lips with hers._

"Lucas, there's nothing else to be said," she says tiredly, silently cursing Haley for talking her into this trap.

"Brooke, I'm sorry for everything," he says honestly.

Her brow rises in that way of hers, lips pursed, mind thinking.

"I really am," he says, sadly.

"For which part?" she asks in anger.

She was okay up until this moment, and she doesn't really know why. Maybe because she can tell that he truly is sorry, and that would mean forgiving him, or maybe because this means having to show feelings that she doesn't want to.

"The part where you kissed my best friend or the part where you basically called me a whore?" she asks, her voice slightly cracking as she thinks back to the baby scare that was not too long ago.

"I'm sorry for everything."

_So really I'd better scurry..._

_Beautiful, please don't hurry _

The rest of the night had been spent in deafening silence.

He can tell that Brooke has clearly been more hurt than he initially thought, and he curses himself for waiting almost two months to talk to her.

But then again, he's never cared so much for a girl in this way, so he's learning as he goes.

They're now done cleaning, and one glance outside tells him that it's snowed during the poorly planned visit, rendering it not very safe to drive.

"I'm gonna go," Brooke informs when she walks out of the bathroom.

Her make up has clearly been reapplied, and if it wasn't for the sad look on her face, she would look perfect.

"Brooke, it's not safe to drive right now," he says with concern.

"I've driven in worse weather," she shrugs, trying to hide her growing fear.

She hates driving in the rain and snow, but right now it sure as hell beats staying inside these four walls with him.

"The roads are closed," he adds, making Brooke's face fall into a scowl.

"Fuck," she moans, pressing her small hand against her forehead in aspiration.

"My mom has some blankets in the back," Lucas says, trying to make light of the situation.

"Yeah, okay." Brooke nods, not caring to watch Lucas as he almost runs to the other room.

Flipping her phone open, she curses Haley, the cafe, Karen and Lucas for the millionth time that night.

"Of course," Brooke hisses through a dry laugh, she's never gotten service in this damn cafe.

"There's only one," Lucas says, as he comes back into the room holding a wool knitted blanket.

"That's just perfect," Brooke purrs in sarcasm, collapsing onto the couch that sits on a dim corner of the joint.

Lucas tries not to think of the numerous times they heavily made out there.

"Here," he says, shaking away the thoughts and handing her the blanket.

"Thanks," she mumbles, pulling it over her body as she sits Indian style.

He nods his head, sitting down on the opposite side of the couch.

There's silence for a few minutes, and he can't hold in the question that he's been asking himself for most of the night.

"Why are you all dressed up?" he asks, causing Brooke to look at him for the first time in the last few minutes.

She stares at him for a few moments, searching his face for why he could possibly ask her that, and then she sees it.

Laughing bitterly, her eyes turn a vivid shade of green. "Do you really think I dressed up for _you_?"

He tries not to show the pain that his ego is currently enduring by her words.

"No," he sort of lies. "I just thought you were done with partying."

"I guess you thought wrong," she says simply, pulling the blanket all the way up to her chin.

Right now, it's the only protection she has from Lucas.

"My mom has some vodka in the back," Lucas says, almost as peace offering.

"And why are you telling me this now, Broody?" both their eyes widen at the use of his old nickname.

He almost wants to smile, because his heart feels like it's expanding – he knows that she still has feelings for him.

"Wait right here," he says, quickly getting up in search of the liquor.

"As if I'll go anywhere," Brooke murmurs sarcastically, glancing at the slightly snow covered road.

_Well Maybe just a half a drink more_

_Put some music on while I pour _

She gets up from her sitting position, and walks toward the radio that sits behind the counter. She plays with the knobs for a few seconds, until she finds a station that she finds suitable.

He comes back moments later with a half full bottle of Smirnoff, and Brooke can't help but chuckle.

"I didn't know Karen was that kind of girl," she says with new found appreciation.

"I try to pretend that she's not." He chuckles too.

Her brow furrows momentarily, and she wants to ask him what's wrong with drinking vodka, but she's too tired to get in another argument.

"Here," he says, handing her an ice filled mug as he pours the clear liquid into it.

She watches as the ice cubes crack, rising to the surface, as she swirls the condiments of her drink in a circular pattern.

"She won't be mad?" Brooke asks, taking her eyes away from the drink and onto the blue eyed boy that has been intently watching her.

"I don't think she remembers that she even owns it," he says, smiling at her because she still worries about getting him in trouble.

She smiles back her weak smile, before hiding it behind the black mug.

She takes a few gulps before the burning liquid causes her to stop, lips pursed as the cold yet warm sensation envelops her body.

Her hazel eyes are now looking at him with a waiting look.

He drinks, his blue eyes locked on her until his mug is empty.

Her brow rises in surprise, because she knows that Lucas is not a drinker, and she's waiting for an explanation as to how he could possible have drunk all of that at once.

"I guess, I've picked up a few bad habits in the last few months." He shrugs, and her face turns into a sad one.

"I'm sorry," she says truthfully, because she knows that she, herself, is the reason for it.

_So nice and warm.._

_Look out the window at that storm _

It's coming on two in the morning, and the snow is now again falling from the dark sky.

Somewhere along the way, the bottle was emptied, and the blanket began to be shared by the two once lovers.

The buzz of the alcohol is still lingering, and so she uses it as an excuse to snuggle her head deeper into the crook of Luke's neck.

It feels so perfect to be so close to him, but it also hurts.

"Brooke," he mumbles once she's settled herself against him.

"Yeah?" she asks, her warm breath hitting his neck in a way that causes his spine to tingle.

"I miss you."

She's silent. And he thinks that she might stand up and walk away, but then she feels that smile against his chest.

"I miss you too."

Her words have a strange effect on him, because such simple words have never caused him to feel what he is right now.

He takes her chin, tilting it slightly so that he can see her beautiful eyes.

"I'm so sorry for everything," he repeats again, and her lips tightly close when he signals for her to not say anything. "I'm sorry for what I did with Peyton, and I'm sorry that I was so selfish and didn't realize how much you mean to me," he proclaims in one breath.

"Luke," she tries, but is stopped when her presses a warm finger against her lips.

"And, pretty girl, I'm sorry for the things I said to you and for thinking that I didn't need you," he whispers, smiling in nothing short of adoration when she shakily nods her head, a tear falling down her face.

"The roads aren't really closed, are they?"

"What?" he asks, not expecting her question.

"I saw a car drive by while you were getting the alcohol," she whispers her little secret.

"I didn't know what else to do to make you stay," he murmurs against her head, taking in that familiar vanilla scent that haunts his every thought.

"You lied to me," she accuses, but can't hide her smile.

"Tell me you don't like it," he says, referring back to his antic of getting her to stay.

"I don't like it," she says, pulling him into her by the collar of his sweater.

Their foreheads are pressed against each other, her parted lips almost touching his as he whispers, "liar."

And when their lips touch and his heart grows filled with feelings that only she can bring, he knows that he'll do anything to make her his, because one of these days, he'll fall madly in love with her.

-X-

_I'm thinking of making this a short Holiday story, but I'm not sure. Thoughts, please? _


End file.
